Wednesday, November 29, 2017


Kelechi is mesmerized. she picks up the Sword of Saad. her arms are burning with yellow fire but her cells are already dead so she doesn't feel anything anymore. she takes the point of the sword and fits it into the keyhole of the locked trunk of Mr. Maldark's car. perfect match. inside is his manifesto and a large collection of driver's permits and tests taken by him and scored 100 and land deal deeds and replacement licenses and stamped algebra homework and FBI files on FBI members and a hobbit stick and everything that could ever help his students, all signed by Maldark who forged the signatures of each of his class.

Kelechi: that man was class. gather round, young and old and god alike.

the students form a circle and sit down outside. Kelechi reads Maldark's final note the best she can, many scribbles fitted into two sides of one sheet of paper.

Kelechi: basically what Mr. Maldark was getting at was he thought all of the world's problems stemmed from everyone driving. cars are tools of destruction. he thought the only way to bring all the people together verily once and for all was for us to ditch our cars and start walking again, everywhere, hand in hand. it would create long conversations again. we would have to rely on strangers again to see us through our journeys. stop in a weird house and rest your head on a sawdust pillow. soothe your aching feet in a swamp. be in favor of furloughs. close all the grocery stores and bring back the barter system. he does not address the problem of milk. social media has destroyed society, we've forgotten how to talk in favor of typeface. we swim in scandal, not speech. that is what will bring the environment back. even Ron. he proposes the construction of a permanent pedestrian mall, despite recent events. repave over all the streets and replant all the roads. then the middle section gets a bit rambly and dicey and crazy i won't bore you with the details. he finishes strong with this final note:

my people, I hope where you're going, there are never roads...


Kelechi puts down the note and climbs into the backseat of the Pinto crackling with yellow electricity. it flies in a split second to Myanmar, flapping its gullwing doors. Codrus is still laughing and doesn't notice the Saad.

at Myanmar, the Pope is visiting for the first time.

the Pope: Rohingya. there, i said it.

the Pope plants a filthily wet passionate kiss on Kelechi's lips.

the Pope: was that inappropriate?

Kelechi: *stunned* yes. but you are the Pope.

Lawrence O'Donnell is there, too, working on desks for young girl students.


Pope: need a few more bent nails. we all fall short of the glory. and a saw that sings. why are you here?

Kelechi: to take us all back to Burma...


at the studio, Brian Williams is on-air with shades on and is air-drumming to his own show's theme.

Brian: is there anyone left to do the news? can i do the drums for real one time? producer? forget it, you have to be drunk to play drums. dammit where's Matt? he said he'd join me for a drink after work. that's not cool to ditch me like that. where's Lawrence? our first guest is, wow, President Bump. well sorta.

President Bump is a hologram now.

Bump: yeah give it a rest, Tom! whoa, what happened to me? i'm transitioning. where are the bubbly British babes from the BBC? don't tell them i'm blue.

Black Widow stains a towel with red brine and tips it onto a long spear. she then sops Bump's mouth with the substance.

Bump: what is this, wine?

Black Widow: cranberry sauce. as you can see, you're on a cross lying flat on the ground. you cannot rise.

Brian: here they are! we share a desk. no buttons. well i'm quitting. no one fun is here anymore. i always wanted to be a drummer in a band. my college had one band. Project Veritas will allow me to be anything i want to be, that's what they told me.

Rajini: Murder on the Mere! film at 11. or on your whatever anytime. would you like some cream tea, Mr. Bump?

Bump: that is one kinky drink. better not in this climate. you are so beautiful.

Rajini: that is a fact. we all know this. let's move on.

Bump: what are you wearing on your lapel there? that pin? it is so beautiful. it's an apple. Apple has taken over the world. my favorite apple is the crabapple. i love sowing Malus. i first grabbed her from behind a tree. the blonde girl.

Rajini: it is the Poppy. from the War.

Bump: you can call me that.

Rajini: anything else i can do for you this final evening?

Bump: now that you mention it: a blue squall parka, one of those Tempur Cloud pillows, Dametra, Pretzelmaker, Pretzel Time will do, some Nueske's Pork, and a red-wine smile on your face.

Rajini: Joker smile?

Bump: hey the French call you guys rosbif as a joke.

Rajini: never discuss roast beef with a woman.

Bump: my cook went AWOL.


the words of Maldark's final will and testament were lost to time. nobody remembered what was his important final document on this earth. just the general sentiment of it. the students went their separate ways, not merrily. everyone took a moment out of their busy schedules to think back on what Mr. Maldark meant to their moving forward. they each took a step back.

Less works for Autoglym valeting cars. he's starting to get into the program Top Gear.

Less: i'm not into cars, but i can see that if i were into cars this show would be my orgasm. i'd watch repeats when the new ones weren't on. the grand tour will be the last tour. i would watch this, nothing else, no game shows or nothing, any hour i wasn't sleeping. they picked the three best hosts for the job. perfect fit. self-effacing Brits are the best.

Deen grew tired of surfing and instead drained all the water in all the oceans to use for water gas. he took over as the de facto owner of the Papa John franchise and bulldozered every last Papa chain store on the planet. retired early off the water gas. he now makes pizza in his kitchen and just recently became a father.

Intendo became President of SEGA cos he realized that it wasn't the distractions from his job, his job was distractions. most of his sales come from Less.

Eli Manning plays for the New York Giants.

Maldark's home location is now a patch of California wildflowers cropped up which grew to such a powerful Super Bloom that it could be seen from outer space.

Halwa calculated the safest distance a pedestrian could walk without getting hit by a car, especially one which sped up suddenly, from the grocery store to the mall. turns out it was the same all around the world.

Mr. Maldark hugs Halwa.


Comey: Ashley cracked the case! you two bumbling idiots could have never accomplished what only Ashley could.

Mueller: hey! i resemble that remark. it's not about achievement, it's about getting the job done. i tried to be spicier but you can only work with what you've got.

the tiny guy raises his arms, which no one can see. the spotlight trains on him and almost burns the poor mini-man to death.

Steele: i am Christopher Steele.

no one in the circus knows who that is.

Ashley: my son! sorry, it's become a reflex at this pont.

Steele: the famed spy?

Comey: that would be me.

Mueller: we had a backup plan y'know. if all else failed we would have disguised Chris here as a bowling pin and joined the circus bowling team.

Comey: they discontinued that act last Wednesday. turns out none of the clowns were good athletes. that's why they were clowns and not acrobats.

Mueller: we got Pitino, so.................i'm ready for a drink.

Ashley: not so fast, buddy, you're driving. you promsied me a ride.

Mueller slunks in his grey blazer.

he takes the couple and his faux son up the woods to the midland meadows of a quaint little aqua-walled lean-to overlooking the onlook overlap of crimson trees and buried apples by the millpond. there, the water is black and the wheels are turning.

Ashley: we're not so green anymore. but we stll try to harmonize our living space with nature. borrowed scenery.

Comey: i know. i live here.

Comey rings the bells. on the floor of the porch.

a woman slides her eyes in the mail slot.

woman: password.

Comey touches his penis.

they enter.

Comey: no, i only did that cos my dick is still sore. meant no offense. reflex. the password is 720.

Comey's wife outstretches her hand.

wife: Jim was always a failed skateboarder.

Comey: still pouring water at the lodge?

Mueller: let's all have a seat on the sofa. Chris can serve as the seatcushion.

Ashley kisses her wife on the mouth.

Ashley: i conducted an undercover sting on you, Jim. for that i am not sorry. within this current climate it was my only recourse. no affair is current. we women won't take it anymore. you were cheating on this poor woman with me so i went covert to see who she was and in the process of interviewing her and gathering dirt on you in case you ever triplecrossed me i fell in love with this noble sweet lady of a past age. and for that i am sorry. between Virginia wheat and afternoon tea i fell in love with her love for you.

Comey: did you wear a wire in your blouse everytime we made love? cos i'd like to buy those tapes off you for posterity. and your posterior.

Comey: wait a minute, you long-conned me? me? the ultimate spy? America's first spy?

Ashley: journalism needs to be painstakingly thorough these days. purposeful journalism. painful journalism. i got tripped up on her downhome charm and farm witticisms i could never understand. but you know me, i researched it and i have a solution.

Comey: i can't believe i didn't see it before. you wore all those ties to the roller derby. what color are your eyes, Ashley? brown or blue?

Ashley: it doesn't matter, just kiss me, you fool. my face is not as fresh anymore.

Ashley kisses Comey and sits inbetween him and his wife on the couch.

Ashley: i'll marry you and your wife! it could work. throughout the course of this caper i stopped hating you, Comeycakes. i really am in love with you. and your wife what's your name again? it doesn't matter. i just can't decide between the two of you, it's a tie.

Comey: who gets the ring?

Ashley: me. all three of 'em. we shall live in wedded bliss. the three of us under one rustic roof. my prairie-home companions. it's just i don't want any secrets among us anymore, you know? let's do all our cheating out in the open.

Comey: is this legal in our state?

Ashley: Washington's not a state.


Lourdes Figueroa comes in to work the next morning in a red wig and doesn't show her butt once while reciting the temps. the climate has changed.


back at the house, Maldark does not pick up one thing. he sees the garbagemen milling about the hole that is his domicile.

Maldark: you were once garbage men. now you are trashmen. i proudly missed you on Black Friday for Friday pickup.

the men: yeah we figured the Black Friday insanity would clog the roads and our big trucks could never get through. so we came on Saturday. except we didn't. we're officially on strike. we don't pick up trash anymore.

Maldark: so you're quitting your jobs at the FBI?

the men: yeah we want to become surfers. nice tennis shoes.

Maldark: just pick up my trash, aye?

Maldark waits for them to circle out of it and slides up the flagpole at the front of his home. except it is not a flagpole. it is a stick of truth. it is the Sword of Saad, blended perfectly with its surroundings. it glows fiercely upon contact with Maldark's skin. a yellow as starry as the sunniest star. he affixes the Sword under the axel of the DeLorean and flames it to the starting line. the Bentley Azure has joined the proceedings. Maldark finished the race the moment he touched the Sword. the speed of light is now new and incalculable and infinitesimal.

the class race to hug their teacher.

Kelechi: what did you do?

Maldark: oh added some cherries. when everycar else was turning their horns into klaxons which only spouted that song about the racist cockroach who ate ice cream, my horn played Mozart's Turkish March. and other stuff. music is my fuel.

the driver of the Bentley Azure brungles out and removes his motorcycle mask. his footsteps are doom. it is the mind-trembling facade of Codrus.

Codrus: got you. i knew you'd crawl out of your hole eventually. i have a sixth sensor about these things. you couldn't bear to let your class or the facility faculty bear witness to the awesome power of the Stones. that Sword is mine!!!

Mr. Maldark runs. he runs and runs and runs. past the Los Angeles Gate and around the entire globe to the Peking Bridge and the orange-heart buoy which divides us all. he runs so fast and out of frame the picture has a hard time catching up. he uncorks cloverleaf highways and turns dirt roads gold. he takes a moment for a special step from the top of the chainlinked edge of the school proper to the outside street property, a culvert now dry with vegetation that is a tricky jump to land. after all his running in the opposite direction he takes one last leap to the finish line and runs right into Codrus's arms back at the school.

Codrus laughs one short ugly laugh and smiles with a sniggering slimeation. he is a normal-sized person but appears to have a humongous head that is the image of a vision. he takes the flag which flew courageously and hesitatingly atop Maldark's roof and burns it openly on the school grounds with a snap.

Codrus: how does it feel, Maldark? to see the flag burning.

Maldark: it is my flag. i completed it. i sang the entire Anthem on the way over here. in my head.

the Sword drops from Maldark's hands onto the pavement.

Mr. Maldark disappears.


Kelechi: Mr. Maldark, what are you doing?

Mr. Maldark is sitting in a pool of his own soda. lines upon lines of crushed cans of Mojave Rattler encircle his head on the floor.

Maldark: i am drunk but clear-eyed. i know what i must do. i have been preparing for this all my life. it feels good to have purpose. we all end, it's good to end on your own terms. if i cannot eat i will drink.

Kelechi: oh Mr. Maldark, i hate to see you like this. what would the kids say?

Maldark: it's fine it's just my bladder is a little full. this is all false energy, i know from whence the real power flows. i'll be sure to use my two toilets before we leave.

Kelechi: do you have any advice for me? my time is up.

Mr. Maldark yanks the Power Balance watch from his wrist and hands it to Kelechi.

Kelechi: how will you check the scores?

Mr. Maldark points to his head.

Maldark: with this bracelet i thee wed. please crush this Power Bracelet under your mighty hand Link-style. you don't need tech, no one does. you'll be fine. believe in me if you don't believe me.

a horrible hiss comes from behind the finished fence.

Maldark's two purple lynx cats each stretch as far as their slender bodies will take them, forming into two Cs of fur.

Maldark opens the latch on the gate. the crying cat is wary at first but notices the C-stretch surrendering cats on the ground and sniffs their whiskers using his whiskers. he leaps over them to any apparent food. Maldark has laid out a bowl of cat pellets and a bowl of wood litter, each glinting from the two silvery moons.

Maldark: don't confuse the two now. i better show him, teachers are examples, not explainers.

Maldark gets on all fours and begins eating the food with his mouth.

Maldark: this is yummy. i've decided. i can live off cat food. i'll shop every MONTH now! o the money i shall save!

Kelechi gives him the Kelechi look.


at the track the second race is heating up. it's Kelechi in the modified DeLorean vs. a zamboni. there was a third contestant, a litter, the vehicle that's called a litter. but the sign said NO LITTERING.

Kelechi starts off quick as she always does but quickly slides back to the pack, which is only the one other. the zamboni catches a wave and inches ahead, then begins shooting out orange cones from its rear bumper so any smoothness of the road it causes does not benefit Kelechi from behind. and to top it all off the rain continues just to spritz, never form outright, so ice forms instead of snow. it's a slick raceway instead of the thing being postponed for a snow day. Kelechi loses it by a nose.

Kelechi: *huffing* i'm so sorry, Mr. Maldark, i let you all down.

Maldark: cry not, child. your water will just evaporate. why are you huffing? is the car okay?

Kelechi: the cam engine's shot.

Intendo: and so are your hopes and dreams. i draw no pleasure from this, cos i can't draw. shame. i was looking forward, really wanted to see you in inaction, Maldark. fight for your love.

Maldark calls out across the way to the rich university on Elm with his indoor classroom voice.

Maldark: what do you say? two out of three?

Intendo: we already have two. you didn't major in math.

Maldark: are you scared? are you chicken?

Intendo: no but i could go for some fried chicken right about now. from now on i'll only eat food on sticks.

Maldark: if i can break the time record, the school keeps the money. i don't care about my house.

Less: you can live with me.

the universities, which are all now simply arms of the Government, are interested in Maldark's offer. information is power. especially when he convinces them that by "time record" he meant setting a new record for the speed of light.


Ashley Parker uses her catlike reflexes to slide against the tent sides of the circus until she spots her prey, the keys which dropped out of the backpocket of Intendo when he rose his head to glare at the spotlit fucking taking place on the tightrope wire.

Ashley: got 'em! now for the combination.

she slinks to the back office, strangely located at the front, and jimmies the key in. with a little jiggle from her fingertip and her boob, it locks into place. she types in the code on the databank with her newly-varnished nails like she was an '80s heroine using a payphone.

Ashley: 7-2-0. yes!!!

Comey is still balancing letting his penis rest and relocate.

Comey: or it might have been 730. i crunched it before.

Ashley looks confused.

inside this office is a whole lot of nothing. it is so antiseptic not a drop of dust collects on the stark sterile steel folder encased in manila sleeping in the center of the room.

Ashley: oh i get it. the room itself was the vault.

the dossier is just as the world had suspected. it contains embarrassing revelations about the Bump family that he was mortified would ever get out. apparently Bump's ancestors come from a long line of clowns. performers who wore white paint and made fools of themselves in front of Roman god-emperors.

Mueller and Chris Steele arrive just in time. late.

Monday, November 27, 2017


1. why should you have sex on a first date? cos she won't have sex with you once she gets to know you.
2. why do you dislike giving oral sex? who says? i love it like Tony Soprano loves it God rest his soul *sign of the cross*. cumming in her mouth is my greatest pleasure, so her cumming in my mouth is only fair in love and war. i love tasting that Trader Joe's Green Plant green food juice blend fruit juice with all those exotic herbs she waterfalls into me. when the spinach hits the back of your throat, there's nothing spicier, not even life itself. i feel so pure and organic. "plant juice" is our safe word.
3. tongue or no tongue? explain. no tongue with a twist. industrial accident. Kiss was performing at the site of the industry. Gene Simmons felt bad for me and gave me a big-kiss swirlie down my throat. it was like magic whenever those guys performed. JUST THEN my tongue SUDDENLY grew three sizes that day! it was two sizes too small.
4. would you have a sugar daddy or sugar mama? can't. too sugary. i can't eat candy ever since my know now that i take a hard unvarnished stock of my life, i realize all of my girlfriends have been sugar mamas...
5. what's a sure sign that you need to get laid? i've been having bonechilling nightmares lately. sex is my only comfort. i wake up in a pool of lukewarm sweat. i barely escape these dusty dreams. i have to yowl and yell and yelp my head off just to switch to the living world like a hard reset. i look at my watch on the dresser next to the dollar bill and check the scores and yelp reviews. i am so cold in the sheets. of course this could have to do with the fact that i don't wear clothes anymore.

bonus: right this very second, which do you prefer---to make love or to fuck like a wild animal? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK


Friday, November 24, 2017



* went Black Friday shopping with my mom. at the mall. just for the atmosphere. memories. moments. mom-ents. make new ones before your old ones run out.

* let's not get into weird, fraught theories this time, okay? no i don't know where the edge is. let's just have some fun.

* tequila-commercial palm tree vibes

* that's not a mirror, that's just a really bad cut

* if there are parallel universes, why are we all in this one?

* they're gonna look back and really regret that fart noise. this is too serious for that.

* is monkey the first man or man the first monkey?

* my body is made of crushed little stars. you can still get depressed if you're a celestial being.

* black-licorice globe

* Trivago. travel the world free.

* those who say they're not afraid to die................are deathly afraid of death.

* what is happiness? the monkey knows.

* it's called datamoshing apparently

* still waiting on Avatar 2: The Papyrus Prophecy

* anybody else see a terrier? and a whale chewing on a cracked pistachio?

* and clouds that look like poodles? one day the shadows will fall and not get up.

* i wonder what Baz Luhrmann is doing right at this moment

* ....................and THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is what is inside a strawberry 7-Eleven Slurpee.

* That's Incredible! was an incredible show

* omg! my captions are translating the foreign languages! it's even funnier the second time viewing this!

* this man is too handsome to be doing radio

* he's explaining the woeful tale of how this poor dolphin was cast back to sea. the sailors were searching for their white whale, not a white dolphin.

* tears of silver

* Mr. Madila, can i draw a cool cartoon like you?...................Mr. Madila says to keep this blog going...

* never seek advice from the back of an iron-on tattoo

* Madila: God exists whether you believe or not.
Cook from Skins: i know. God is me. i'm the Party God.

* Cook from Skins: this all be rubbish and you're mad for hearing voices.
Madila: you mad?
Cook: yes. but British mad means, like, cool.

*  Madila: i posit you this, what exactly is a thought?
Cook: i counter your thought with this thought: what exactly is a catch in the NFL?

* bottom line: thinking is crazy.

* Madila: how can we touch objects? what does an atom feel like?
 Cook: i felt an atom once. it was tingly.

* Madila: excuse the palm of my hand. i have Skittles pox.

* Madila: close your eyes. what do you see?
Cook: nothing.
Madila: open your eyes. what do you see?
Cook: keep your hands where i can see them.

* Madila: rub your eyes. pandiculate.
Cook: i need Effy for that.

* SAT question: the color of nothing is: a) cosmic latte b) all in your head c) a construction d) all that is and all that is not e) the gaps inbetween f) brown

* concussion or petrified wood?

* or ants painting Unknown Pleasures? or a rancid meatstick?

* oh, it was a mushroom. figures.

* suddenly have a craving for an Ocean Spray mocktail. bellini. shake a little Cran-Apple and Ruby Red in that tumbler under the table when no one's looking. FILL it with ice.

* need to stop now. if i think too much more deeply hard about this episode my forehead will literally start to turn purple.


happy weekend, my babies

Wednesday, November 22, 2017


at the National Anthem, Papa John takes a knee. he kneels hard, making sure to plant each knee firmly into the turf before he begins singing the Anthem. he gets through the entire song without disappearing.

Papa John: my pizza is bad. Domino's is better.


at Maldark's house. bungalow. cottage. which is really just open space at this point.

Kelechi: you don't want to watch the race?

Maldark: i'd rather not know the final outcome. it's better this way.

his two purple cats are licking themselves. one, the tomcat, takes a veritable bite out of his own leg with his sharp teeth.

Maldark: and that is Thanksgiving dinner. it was a nice Thanksgiving.

Kelechi: Mr. Maldark i think i love you. you're the teen idol i never knew i had a need for. i'm so glad you entered my life.

Maldark: want not. don't worship me, worship your struggle. i have no special talent, i am only passionately curious.

a lone cat on the other side of the fence screeches and shrieks and yowls and howls and hisses and warbles.

Kelechi: i hate not adding to the meal. sure i can't scramble you up a few eggs?

Maldark takes the entire crate of Sun Valley eggs and slips on all the garbage around him, the trash which has intruded upon his space. Maldark begins to laugh.

Kelechi: you don't have to carry the entire wobbly crate. simply leave the crate as is and slide your finger through the various paper-cardboard layers and slide an egg out.

Maldark: my brain is malfunctioning.

Kelechi: your brain needs food.

Maldark spots the trashmen. he glances their shoulders and wishes them happy holiday.

Maldark: this was a dilemma for me. a moral quandary. do i touch the help's shoulders to signal i'm treating them as equals? a half-hug. or is it construed as a power-dynamics play? like i'm lording it over them? showing my superiority, deigning to dirty my hands with the lower class. more like pushing them, shoving them, directing them, leashing them, lashing them. common humanity or commoner catharsis crisis? everyone needs their space to feel safe. i'm glad i touched them tho.

Kelechi: you are a man of the people never forget that.

Halwa knocks on the door. the imaginary door. she basically just air-knocks.

Maldark: i can't see you, child, go home.

Halwa: but can you help me with my bonus question of my algebra?

Maldark: i said good day, madam. i said good day.

Halwa turns around crying.

Kelechi: how dare you speak to my niece like that.

Maldark: i cannot see her anymore.

Kelechi: *checking the scores on her watch* lost. the boy lost. Less lost.

Maldark: i was afraid of this. let's go.

at the racetrack.

the Bentley Azure won the race with aplomb. it was a tight race. the El Camino slipped and flipped on the buttery track but hydroplaned with such coolness cos of its carriage in the back. the Mercury Bobcat jumped the white lines and kept going, racing all the way to Disneyland. the Tesla rig was slow the whole time, proving finally that Tesla was not as smart as Einstein. Less in the grey DeLorean flapped its wings for a while and flew into first place but curbed hard right when he should have curbed hard left and crashed into the tree in the middle.

Less is in catatonic shock.

Maldark: snap out of it, kid! choose another state.

Less: c-c-c-c-c-c-cars

Maldark: did you pipe it through the French drain? check your gascolator?

Intendo: a-ha! i knew you were working with foreign nationals.

Maldark: when did you get here?

Intendo: i had an accident and ran. two more heats for you to redeem yourself.

Maldark: what happened, dude?

Less: the sea lions. the sea-lion crosswalk. i saw a sea-lion from the corner of my eye and made a split-second idea and applied the brakes. stopped suddenly. the screeching. from the tires. from me. from the scared sea-lion. i waited till the little guy waddled across. but by then it was too late. i was in a tailspin.

Mr. Maldark hugs Less rudely.

Less: the coast wasn't clear.


a small man drives a jeep wildly, crashing through the North Korean gate and into the no-fly neutral zone which divides the two holy halves of sacred Korea. soldiers of the North are shocked into action cos no one has tried a stupid stunt such as this in years. the man zigzags and flips the jeep over the last hill and escapes on foot. until the soldiers take the feet from under him. by shooting his feet. amidst the rubble of smoke and gas the man raises his fist in the air.

Kim: freedom! get me out of here! this regime is oppressive!

the soliders drag Kim away back to his throne.


Blair Walsh: and now SportsTalk with your host Blair Walsh. hey that's me! this is my own little podcast i do on Wednesdays. an NFL kicker gets a lot of down time. especially when i'm left behind the plane to Mexico City.

Samuel L Jackson: so my man, how many views does this pod get? need a cast?

Blair: i don't check the views. that's the worst thing you can do.

Sam: my man how do you do it? you have missed some crucial, career-defining field goals. lay ups under playoff pressure. easy 70-yarders. and yet you step up to the microphones like a man, talk about how this is a lesson. for your son. and skip away your day. and get another job in the NFL!

Blair: i have an indomitable spirit. no matter what happens to me, i keep my smile.

LaVar Ball: time for my segment. now! cos i'm now. move! i've got places to go people to see i'm a-big ballin'.

Blair: my show beats your facebook show in views. my shows beats yours. so, what have you been up to? you're the father, right? Lando is the son.

Sam: you're becoming the most famous L in the world. LeBron is not happy, tho he'll never say. you are too over-the-top for me.

LaVar: oh you know, twitter.

Blair: what did you say this time, Big Precious?

LaVar: i said what everyone was thinking, no one respects you, you racist pig! sent it to the president. i added a thanks at the end. ungrateful my ass.

Sam: you express your feelings through subtweet. smart. i need to start doing that, have all my followers be like, 'huh?'


the introductory breezy jazzy theme of the Charlie Rose Show plays over the stereo. Vince Guaraldi piano. the bare red room lights up. Sally Jessy Raphael and Mike Tyson sit on the roundtable.

Charlie Rose: splendid. splendid.

Mike Tyson: can i play with your iconic red glasses, John Salley?

SJR: no. if you'd try them on you'd smash them with your Hulk head.

Mike: how could you, Charlie? this is different. this isn't another regular man. this is Charlie Fucking Rose. you were the ringleader. the master of quiet. the one-on-one. no jazz band. no monologue. just an easeful conversation between two friends on a porch in the 18th century. sweet noise. talk, not sounds. dialogue. communication. a learning. an understanding gained. a rapprochement rendered. a sense that you said your peace. peacefully. the bloodless revolution. not saying boo. that's why it was so great that we did you on an episode of my show Mike Tyson Mysteries. the fact that you had the moral high ground over me made it funny. now we both are commoners and it's not funny. you could speak with authority cos you composed a composed circle. i could only punch the arena. i looked up to you, i'm not Manson. you made me soft and introspective. you were my last link to Spalding Gray. that helped me out when i finally did Broadway. it's like we're living in these times where everyone you knew was really a zombie all along. what do you have to say bout your wrongdoings, Charlie?

nobody has noticed that the roundtable was smashed in the interim by Mike. Sally Jessy doesn't bat an eyelash and stays motionless in her red glasses. Charlie is gone.

Mike: Charlie? where are you Charlie.

Charlie: taking a shower.

Mike: no, don't. there really shouldn't be showers in public offices anymore. let's get those showers back in homes ya feel me?


the lights show brought on the dark stage. President Bump is strapped to the flat plain. he can't move and lies motionless with one strap around his chin.

Bump: sweet Anastasia's ghost.

Scarlett Johansson enters the light a whip in her hand: close. i am Natasha.

Bump: why are my pants down? let me check the scores one last time? there's a rotary storm.

Black Widow: that's a rear.

Bump: lordy. Lourdes Figueroa! i'm branching out, getting Mexican with my weather girls. what a figueroa figure. figures. and that fat butt!

Black Widow: aw, darlin, i thought you were on redheads now. i'm crushed. for a while.

the whip attaches and coils around the presidential penis. but it's not a whip, it's the tail of an elephant.

Black Widow: this is the greatest reality show there is! being beamed around the world and to other worlds! the most views in the galaxy! but this is no public execution taken to the extreme on a future tech platform. nor a flogging in the public square. but a promise. come on, one more...

Bump: *show of hands* okay, okay, i give. i won't do it! i'll rescind the order. i'll have a presidential pet after all. this elephant! i'll even name it Ivory!

a giant gold stone lies behind Bump. it slowly sucks away all of Bump's Stones energy as the whip tail tugs.

Bump begins to disappear.

Bump: you'll miss me when i'm gone! it's not good to be in a bored state. man cannot live by Calico Critters alone. there is one thing worse than bankruptcy. obscurity.

Colin Jost comes out and whacks Bump a few times on the large head.

Scarlett: alright, honey, that's enough.

a commercial interrupts the proceedings.

up on the electronic billboard: Tom Steyer here, citizens unite, time to impeach, loony with a lighter.

Scarlett: dude, i'm on your side. at least for now. but you gotta stop with the incessant drumbeat of these commercials. i've seen this 100 times. i see them everywhere. interrupting my Steven Universe podcasts. my last Transformers podcast. i can't escape into escapism. you're gonna become the next puppy mill commercial...

Tom: *answering Scarlett through the screen* repeat message. privately funded. i'll step down if you step down. deal?

Bump: yeah man, you're disrupting the flow.



the Pinto has been outfitted to look exactly like the DeLorean from the movie.

Mr. Maldark: wasn't that supposed to be more of a guide? i mean it's not even similar, it's exact. which blueprints did you use?

class: we all saw the movie.

Less: *newly confident* don't worry, Mr. Maldark, no copyright infringement. there's one shining difference.

the car is an exact copy of Marty's car bequeathed by the crazy professor. Maldark is on the teacher's side and cannot see the variant. the gullwing doors shine in the late-afternoon dew. or rather it's starting to spit slightly.

Maldark: uh oh, this is the worst water. it's just barely, so the course will be slick.

the DeLorean pulls up to the starting gate. its driver is one Less. the gullwing doors lose their shine cos there is rapidly no sun. but then the gullwing doors open up, revealing a smiling Less, and the gullwing doors start to flap like a bird! the vehicle slowly mounts up and floats on a cushion of invisible air above the hot street.

Maldark: *eyes wide* wow! that is something. you all get As!

the class cheers. Kelechi does a standing 360 flip.

Maldark: i would have given you all As anyway for effort, i'm an easy grader. just make sure that thing doesn't turn over midflight. or swerve off the course cos it's trying to shoot to the moon.

the other cars from the other area driving schools are storm-ready. every bolt and nut is in place. every seat and driver. though the driver in the Bentley Azure wears a mask you can still tell his tongue is salivating. the other participants include a Tesla rig, a Mercury Bobcat, and a candy-apple-green 1980 Chevy El Camino with that sleek unique long train bed.

the rumbling motors form a line spark of electric anticipation which crackles the outside cold air.

Maldark climbs in the cockpit and quickly climbs out, rubbing Less's shoulder with his shoulderpad.

Maldark: look straight ahead, my son. this winding road is your destiny. don't ever look back. pretend i don't exist. i know i haven't been with you through your struggle but i'm here now at the end. now cut the brakes, you won't need them, turn the key, or push the button whatever completes the circuit, and SHOOT THE MOON!!!


Intendo is giving himself a break and joining the circus. at least for one show. he saunters giddily to the bigtop entrance with arms swaying in the breeze like a '20s kid sucking a rock.

Intendo: treat yoself. if i have to do this dreary job i might as well take advantage of the one opportunity outpost. requested vehemently to be posted at this circus where the secret documents are. miles away from the ivory cage of Washington. this is our furtherst reach outward. go west, young man. i feel like a Roman liontamer. who's bad at his dead-end job. speaking of, LIONS! there will be lions here!

he wastes the time waiting in line chomping on a turkey leg using its wetness to pick up the last bits at the bottom of his 25-gallon balloon bag of caramel corn.

Intendo: gotta save some room for those peanuts you can only get at the circus. with those shells which are so unhealthily salty you want to eat them and not the nuts. you want to leave those stringy lines of rine under your tongue and see if you can digest the shells. wait, hold up, me first, i could pass all of you, i'm a govment man, but i choose not to to blend in! i want to get the uppermost seating up in the rafters to catch the best THESE are floorsworth tickets!

Intendo bops his head to the familiar tune of the Three Stooges circus theme as a coterie of mustached seals, must be 30 or so, get out of a small car with a flower for an antenna. they have driven so long it's second nature to them, they don't need to be trained anymore. a couple of clowns balance their red noses on their nose and jump in the pools of circle water cos it's hot inside the heavy tarpy insulated-material space-silver flowing tent fabric. a beautiful woman hides her head and reaches the spotlight completely nude. parents cover their kids' eyes. there's an audible gasp in the arena. cos she turns around and it's revealed she has a beard. on her face. a man in a black top hat which reaches the ceiling of the bigtop arrives from the non-circle darkness with a whip. no lions or any cats in sight. the man is simply into BDSM. the kids cover their own eyes. a couple of pale cool BMX bikers in dreads perform a couple of high jumps off dirt ledges cos there's no such thing anymore as a circus shot.

Michael Jordan hologram in the stands: the roof is the ceiling!

Wolf's disembodied voice in the stands: and now, kids of all ages, the moment you've all been waiting for!

George Takei hologram in the stands: tigers and bears, oh my!

Intendo's eyes wide at the spectacle. colored crosslights fill the space.

Wolf: the most dangerous job in the world! Comey will attempt to walk a long tightrope with no safety netting. the rope is so long it extends back to Washington, DC. don't try this at home, kids. or here! Comey is a trained spy. and he has really long legs. take off your pants, Jim, your silly stilts are showing.

Comey wipes his brow and takes a deep breath. he looks down to see a familiar face in the crowd. no one there. the entire arena is in a deep hush and there is only one light now. he leans on the trapeze bar to steady his long quavering body. he steps out for the first step and his leg goes wavy one way unevenly in snatches to one side. the members of the Flying Wallenda family are down below looking up with interest holding the balloon tarp just in case. and damning his genes of recklessness. there is only one Wallenda Family member left.

Comey struggles to keep his equilibrium. he methodically climbs the rope horizontally with his feet, grasping at every inch of the rope with his heated toes. the faux snakeskin bodysuit he's wearing is starting to chafe. he reaches the quarter pole of the tightrope, at least the tightrope showing under the tent.

the spotlight quickly turns off him and onto...........Ashley Parker!

Ashley: ta-da!

the crowd sucks wind.

she is wearing her trademark orange checkered grunge plaid sportscaster blazer. she takes it off sexily and beams a smile at Jim larger than the spotlight.

Comey: my darling. hug me! seriously, i need you to balance me!

Ashley makes her way gingerly on the tightrope ripping open the soles of her ballet stockings.

Ashley: my slip is tearing. not the one you want.

Comey: blue slip. i was so blue. kiss me, you fool!

the two embrace on top of the world. a firework goes off inside. failed bulb. the crowd cheers and claps ringily.

Intendo for his part is mesmerized. he sighs with gusto and shakes his fists together, that's how he claps.


he leans back on the railing of his seat. Ashley spots this with her one good eye as she leaves the other closed while French kissing Comey.

the two start to copulate in the middle high of that tightrope. noone closes their eyes. no one, everyone is wide awake at noon. their hands and feet form a pretzel and clothes come off faster than the crack of a whip (unfortunately). the two show the world what good love is, they slide their fingers into each other and wash away their guilt cos their clothes are practically spray-painted on at this point it's so hot. they grind their emotions and growl like tigers as they suck the wind out of the joint with their kissing and groping and touching of butts. Ashley manages to suck Comey's penis while squatting perfectly in synch with the teetering rope like a seasoned pro. forming a cross. Jim closes his eyes and prays for absolution. he rubs her nipples like rubbing those special coins you could only get at a circus when you were a kid.

they talk inbetween their teeth.

Ashley: i saw your twitter yesterday. it made me sad.

Comey: why?

Ashley: cos I know you're secretly funny but now the world knows. that was our thing.

Comey: oh lordy i'm gonna come with the details.

Ashley: *stroking with her teeth* come on, you dirty boy, you can do it. just a little more...


Ashley: thank you.

Comey cums all over the crowd. spraying them like summer rainfall. they are stunned at first but soon erupt in a ball of laughter. Intendo trembles his pert lips at the moment of Comey's point of no return.

Comey: *relieved and exhausted* what were you doing with Jonathan Lemire in that cargo helicopter?

Ashley: you peep my instagram? work. next time you can cum in my mouth you know. less messy.

Comey: i always hedge my bets the first time. want to stay on the safe side. conservative.

the two lovers raise their arms together in triumph. Ashley kisses Comey on the mouth and on his two nipples one by one then redresses into something more comfortable and jumps down from the tightrope and lands gracefully like a cat.

Monday, November 20, 2017


it's not a dirty word. it's a method of preparing the Thanksgiving turkey to make it easier to lie flat on the grill. thanks, Bob's Burgers. i'd rather not get into the details cos it's pretty disturbing.

1. what was your favorite band in high school? the Smashing Pumpkins. it was the first time i felt free. i was way behind my peers at parties when it came to music. i didn't start listening to Nirvana until a day before his death. his full name was Kurt S. Nirvana. with Billy i shared a kindred creative spirit. we were both uncompromising and cried a lot, we both wore those black ZERO t-shirts, and we both went bald around the same time. i still don't know what Billy was thinking with that cueball Uncle Fester look. edit: turns out Billy was so electric he could turn on light bulbs by placing the bulb in his mouth.

2. what is your favorite band now? B.E.R.

3. what was your go-to "make me feel better" food in high school? pizza from Fedco. Fedco was the in place to shop before Walmart existed. they closed down in the '80s and took their nostalgia with them. there will never be an atmosphere like Fedco. bargain prices and Thrifty ice cream. i keep the last slice of Fedco pizza under my bed. it's from the '80s and i refuse to eat it cos it's my only memory, my only link to the past. it's still hot and the cheese is still stringy. they used radioactive hot lamps in the '80s, safety standards were more lax.

4. what is your go-to "make me feel better" food now? why? Southern Comfort Egg Nog. it's a drink and a food and a drink.

5. fill in the blank: that______was then, this_________is now

that unreported horror kept in silence that no one knew about was then, this unreported horror kept in silence that no one knows about is now. things will never change..................happy thanksgiving!

bonus: where were you and what were you doing on November 21, 2016?

watching a very special presentation of Hamilton on a New York stage. that was when they said the world was gonna end, right?



Friday, November 17, 2017



* the world would be a better place if we all got rid of our garages and parked our tractors on our front lawns.

* landlords are people, too

* y'know eventually those monster trucks are gonna be so high up on their tires that they'll just float in the sky and not need tires. and that is how we'll finally get flying cars.

* Hamilton what hath you wrought

* taking out the trash was everyone's first job...

* i've never done the dishes in those delicate yellow rubber gloves. i like to feel the suds on my naked body.

* remember those hand lawnmowers? they weren't quite cutting the grass with a knife and they came before everyone got John Deere zambonis. they were basically just a handle with a metal lantern in the middle. and then Beck made leafblowers cool and everyone forgot. the forgotten lawnmower.

* what are we in life but God's crummy pawns? get ready for some unsourced philosophy.

* homeowner's associations are always shadowy. and landlords are always nebbish and scrawny.

* the neighborhood watch doesn't really exist. that's just a scare tactic.

* landlord: what is with this insane mountain of garbage bags? who will ever pick up all this trash?!!!
wrestler: the trashmen. they come Friday.

* wrestler: you better like my pink pants!

* landlord: white drapes only. wait, nevermind. let's talk about plants. plants are not allowed! pets are. no sax after midnight. sex is okay.

* landlord: i am lording over your land. metaphorically, you guys are taller than me.

* landlord: i know i got this to save the environment but this dainty bicycle is not a good look for me.

* Disney and heavy metal will never mix. real bird, but looks fake. whatever you do, never let go of the handlebars. he was on the hill the whole time for that shot, the camera was the one that was spinning.

* Spoonman. R.I.P. Chris.

* other wrestlers: what happened?
wrestlers: the landlord went to a barbecue! let's party!

* wrestler: i'm hungry. is the landlord back from Burger King yet?
dj: if you want the pizza there'll be no more music. is that what you want?

* wrestler: Fred Flintstone? what are you doing here?
Fred: Seth MacFarlane promises aren't worth the ink they're written in.
wrestler: how do you remember if it's Mc or Mac?
Fred: Seth is the mac daddy.

* in the wrestling world, it's not a food fight, it's practice.

* this isn't hypermasculinity, it's a cry for help. emotions don't come easy. helium is femininity.

* picture of Jesus of course

* wrestler: is that the tea kettle i'm smelling?
other wrestler: no the house is burning down.

* wrestler: what Miller is trying to convey is a contradiction...
other wrestler: whoa! Henry Miller really does look like a landlord!

* wrestler: the reader nullifies whatever the writer is trying to convey.
other wrestler: you're right. crush all the readers!
wrestler: we're wrestlers. we wrest.

* subtext was cool before subtweets.

* i suddenly had a vision of a naked Donna Reed in the bushes smashing a record.

* looks like the iconic yellow (and blue and red) Disneyland Main Street Parade record

* oh yeah, brother! i remember that judge. would like to finally know the color of his eyes before i die.

* i think that's a reference that would be funnier if i got the reference.

* hey it's not the paper's fault!

* old-timey photographer officially makes this a noir.

* wrestler: we had sons?
other wrestler: didn't you watch the biography of The Nature Boy? every wrestler has a double life.
other wrestler: btw, i really don't have a head.

* wrestlers: it's ironic you came out of the very toilet you never fixed once when you were alive.

* wrestler: are you Scooby Doo?
ghost landlord: come on, get it right. we need this Last Jedi money. it's the last time a Jedi's gonna be this loaded.

* ghost landlord: you either get a new landlord or have me haunt you for eternity or do what Paul Manafort did with his properties.

* wrestlers: are you our new daddy we mean landlord?
landlord: yes.
wrestlers: you look familiar.
landlord: you'll see in the closing segment. i did all the music for it.
wrestlers: you really let yourself go, Moby.
Moby: yeah, was riding high there with Gwen. she licked the back of my bald head and everything. but then she ran off with a cowboy leaving the world to scratch its bald head...

* there's always gotta be a guy who looks either like a burnt-out Santa or Charles Manson if he didn't go insane

* so close, John Belushi still in his toga, so close to getting that rhyme.

* y'know i never realized when i was in college just how exorbitant it is to rent. it's actually cheaper to own a house, isn't it?

* pictures not taken from rap sheets, just all old photos from the '70s, the only ones they had of themselves

* as you can tell, i'm not much of a wrestling fan. never really got into it. not even Hulk Hogan. i liked Andre the Giant for a while when i thought it was My Dinner With Andre the Giant. stopped with the Slim Jim guy after i stopped snapping unhealthy heavily-salted meatsticks in two like twigs. i have always admired The Undertaker from afar...


happy weekend, my babies. when my armpit starts to stink is when my Friday ends.

Thursday, November 16, 2017


Mr. Maldark is greeted with frantic hugs upon his return to school.

Kelechi: *on the phone* no, baby, don't go to the Gadsden Mall. you can see Star Wars anywhere, it's playing all over, not just at that theater.

Halwa is right next to her aunt on the phone.

Deen: Mr. Maldark, it's terrible. they made me build the very crane which ended up demolishing my first Domino's business with a wrecking ball. they knew i loved to build. they said it was for renovations but i never agreed to renovations. i can't afford renovations! this was my first crack at pizza. i liked its old-school charm.

Maldark: i like yours. darn, i was hoping i could stay with you there for some weeks. progress pushes forward without us. stick to me, kid, and you'll be okay. just keep at it renovating my precious Pinto. put your prodigious talents to a cause that matters. they're trying to break you until they put you down.

the school's new course is glimmering in the morning dew aching to be rode.

Maldark: *holding a clipboard* before we start, does anyone here believe in something higher than themselves?

Less: do you have to say yes? cos i'm not sure.

Maldark: nope, you just have to say something. that takes care of the religious exemption. just need to check the box here and that's that on taxes. stupid tax.

Kelechi: i'm gonna test this puppy course out.

Kelechi removes her shoes and socks and barefoots it around the track like the Roadrunner in record speed without breaking a sweat though her feet are sweating.

Kelechi: yep. should be easy with a car.

Maldark: that's it, girl! like you're the first in the neighborhood to check out that new taco tavern that just opened up. you look like you need a bath.

Kelechi: i bought you three weeks' of food. and a flora vasca for myself. i need a tub of roses to bathe in.

Maldark: forest bathing. the new trend i never knew i needed till my house was demolished and all there was left was forest. please, that's too much food. i'm used to it now, my stomach is in permanent knots. donate the food to the class, they got open mouths that still need to sigh in wonder. that need to get hungry again to complete the project. where's my car?

Halwa: still in the garage shop. almost finished. the entire class has been working on it, Mr. Maldark, day and night without breaks.

Maldark: well alright then we can pretend. class, let's everyone hop into this third-row seating and imagine we're at the steering wheel. it's our own little squeezed steering committee.

Kelechi: my feet hurt. not that.

Maldark: i got some talcum powder in the trunk?

Kelechi: can't. that gave me ovarian cancer.

Maldark hugs Kelechi rudely.

Kelechi: i knew you'd come around eventually.

Maldark: i am so soz, dear.

Kelechi: it's a condition called POCS. and i'm particularly suspectible cos i'm a POC, person of color. i try to rub it from me like the sleep from my eyes but these red rashes pop up everywhere and turn my beautiful brown skin ruddy. i'm losing my skin to this red menace. i can't wipe-screen it away. i can't remove my spots.

Maldark: you know the arm on the yellow Arm & Hammer box? that's the arm of Rosie the Riveter.

Kelechi: thanks, Mr. Maldark.

Maldark: *smile* respec womans. now why...

there's a lot of revving. revving up and revving down. and smoke. the other cherried-out cars arrive for the race, decked out in dingy duds and pearly pipes. one in particular catches the teacher's eye and turns his brown eye blue.

Maldark: Bentley Azure.

in the cockpit of the Bentley Azure lies the driver. the driver with the hood over his head.

Maldark turns around.

Maldark: *hands on head* WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CAR????????!!!!!!!!!!!

Wednesday, November 15, 2017



at the interview, Camera Guy is sitting beside Bryan Cranston with a nervous tigger.

Camera Guy: so Bryan, can these men ever work in this town again?

Cranston: it would have to take a devastatingly forgiving society. and they would have to show true deep abiding contrition. priest-level contrition. in front of the camera or it doesn't count. but everyone deserves a chance. look at me. i got a chance. who knew i was anything other than Malcolm's goofy dad?

Camera Guy: what about the women?

Cranston: society is reevaluating itself. which is a good thing. we need a do-over. we need to smash every last purloined pylon down and start from scratch. we must build inward. we must think back. have i ever called someone a sweetie? well it was inappropriate to call her a sweetie. don't be so sweetie all the time, act mean and keep a healthy distance from others.

Camera Guy: what's the long-term solution?

Cranston: no more extracurricular talking. just say your lines as exactly written in the script, that's the actor's job. you start adlibbing, you start trouble. never reveal yourself, don't let your personality slime its way through. simple. just never say anything ever again.

Camera Guy: how do i know you're not acting? for all i know you could turn and kill me when the cameras turn off.

Cranston: thank you, that's very kind.

Camera Guy: would you like some cranberries before your big FDR speech?

Cranston: thank you kindly. with whip cream. i love whip cream when i sex.


Kelechi is at Mr. Maldark's house, what's left of it. Intendo is spinning himself around the last toilet.

Intendo: you better win that race. you got no mo money. i checked your funds, even your secret Swiss account.

Mr. Maldark: i only use that money to pay for my love of Roger Federer.

Intendo: gotta pay for this house or it becomes official FBI property. then we'll get to the bottom.

Maldark: there's nothing here. you won't find it.

Intendo: your cats are ever the fighters. my men were tearing open the backs of all your paintings. i guess i watch too many movies. i strive to anyway. we went to the cupboard for lunch after all our hard work and your cats sprang out of an empty can of Old Potato soup and scratched our eyes out.

Kelechi: damn they both fit in there?

Maldark: my purple people eaters, ever by my side.

Intendo: we checked all your holes.

Maldark: it was painful.

Intendo: as you can see, there are no more holes. they all became the sky. your chimney's been hollowed out. you should really check out the course. it's all pretty and painted. ready for race day.

Kelechi: not a bad suggestion. but it was my idea.

Intendo puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out two tickets...

Intendo: tell you what, i got someplace i gotta be, why don't you two...

Maldark stops him midsentence with a karate chop.

Maldark: eh, take yourself.

Intendo: fine by me.


Less is slowly wrenching himself away from his consoles. he gingerly hails a cab and takes off his sweater. he takes the giant leap from the curb to sit in the frontseat of the cab instead of the back. a woman from Saudi Arabia discusses politics in soothing tones.

woman: and so we finally got the right to drive in my country. if you wait long enough, change will come.

Less: can i take the wheels? the controls? i'm training.

woman: i could get fired. but go ahead, this freedom is contagious. see? it's not so bad. go ahead, extend your spin. you sound depressed when you talk.

Less: i don't know what my trouble is. other than hating driving.

woman: that's just it. it's not depression. it's that you never drove anywhere. you were stuck this whole time. if you want to break free, you must drive away to your places. you'll feel light and airy the minute you book your first crosscountry trip, you'll see. *wags finger* just no planes, mister!

Less: thank you. i didn't catch your name. you're not wearing your nameplate by law.

the woman brakes abruptly to let a sea otter cross the road in his little lane of Sea Otter Xing that was erected after that one famous sea otter died from roadkill. the stone in the otter's memory shines the sun off sadly every time a driver passes it, like a reflector which came too late.

woman: for a reason. disappear into your ocean, little one. go ahead and take that stuffed lion with you resting in the middle of the backwindow there.

Less: but you're driving here in this country. why don't you go back to your country?

woman: *winks* it's the symbolism of the thing.



Ashley Parker hears a strange murmuring outside her bush. it's Comey! he's doing his college boy scout try darndest to ascend the vine which trickles into Ashley's apartment bay window in the dead of night.

Ashley: what are you doing here, Comeycakes? not that i'm unhappy to see you.

Comey: the circus is between towns. i volunteered to stay away from the troupe cos the traveling between locations is, well, boring. and Comey is anything but boring. that's when all the fighting and ethnic divisions break out, when us freaks are given nothing to do. as long as we're flipping and fipping and twirling we're a cohesive unit, not a congestive one. what you see before you is the latest in spy technology. Cold War era.

Ashley: my metal man.

Comey: men used to climb the walls of our dueling dual mutually-bugged embassies to search for bugs. the Russians were clever back then in more of a cartoony way. they literally baked wires into the concrete they used for building plaster.

Ashley: i would have gone with bisque porcelain myself. should be some interesting pieces at Christie's this weekend. mold them into naked Russian ladies so you'd be sure the Americans would speak directly into their mic'd breasts.

Comey: all this talk is making me hungry. mind making something for me?

Ashley: sorry, i'm working.

Comey: the ball in selectric typewriters, they transformed those into listening devices undetectable by scans.

Ashley: you know that is fascinating. i've seen an electric typewriter from afar but i never looked at the guts. had no reason to. i had no idea. dad brought home a traditional typewriter with single hammers but his next purchase was that cute square Macintosh that fit in your pocket. i saw for the first time that amazing typeball just yesterday. that thing is a miracle! it's a super-alloy golf ball of the future! something out of The Flash. some sci-fi orb you can't see whizzing by.

Comey: simply replace with another ball for ALL ITALICS.

Ashley: it's a beachball on acid! much more efficient. and fun! i really wish they had stuck around longer. computers are boring and quiet by comparison. what have i been missing all my life!

Comey: you play golf?

Ashley: always too expensive. but not anymore with your money, right honey? my G man, G for golf.

Comey: and here i thought beach volleyball was your sport. well i have on the equipment for snowboarding and skiing. how bout it? i wish i could go for real. the one time in our history that we're friends with the enemy and can look around is the one time i'm fired.

Ashley: 'tis the weather. like a nippy Moscow night of old. but i'm heating up. i am so close. you guys next set up shop in the District, right?

Comey: yes but 1300 miles away. in the heart of the heartland.

Ashley: hey is there anything suspicious happening at your circus?

Comey: no, not really. the boss always keeps an office by the peanut stand. with a glass door that says PRIVATE on the front. a subsection of the bigtop tent. i dare not ever enter it. i like having money.

Ashley: huh. you're like those Hollywood starlets who are stuck selling their souls. and is there a lock on it?

Comey: yessim. double-barreled. you need the key and the combination.

Ashley: *smiling* heh. well it looks like my rollerderby rink froze over right on cue. i have nothing to do.


at the US Trials, President Bump is enjoying some football, chili threads, and an Australian bullwhip. international football.

Bump: i know. eggs. i like them handed to me. i'm hip.

Pusilic: you've got the hips for it, sir.

Bump: now get out there on that pitch and make the country proud. shame about the United States. how could we not qualify? who's running this operation? who's your teacher? i could be a better coach. i'm a great motivator.

Pusilic: thank you for bailing me out.

Bump: i dare you not to thank me for this. would have been an international incident not to have the best new young hot rising star showcased. i mean there was a real possibility there for a while you weren't gonna become the greatest player of all time.

Pusilic: sir, which of the three countries should i play for?

Bump takes out three yellow-glowing large fingers.

Bump: well your World Cup runneth over. which three?

Pusilic: i'm from the Moving Plains. i have divided loyalties and weird citizenship with England, Germany, and Croatia.

Bump: two European, bleh. i'd go with the Croatia, they don't have much going for them these days. except war and famine like most countries on this benighted terminated rock. a big win could really lift their spirits. they live in Hell like we all do. i mean other than that singer from back in the day when the internet was still young who did that perfectly-timed sex tape with her facial on the boat bed. that sex tape was just right, not too long, not too short. i enjoyed it. i converted to Catholic on that day.

Pusilic: i won't let you down, sir. cos you can't be let down.

Bump: if you bomb out i still got this whole Kiev cake on my lap that wrests my interest. where're the drinks?

Pusilic: there's lucozade in little soccerball-shaped containers being handed out.

Bump: ogh that has such an international-flair sound to it.

Pusilic: it means loco in the international language of love.

Bump: hey kid, you got some pus in your hair. wipe it out before you descend.


Bump: oh that's my Samsung. shhhh, don't tell anybody.

Bump climbs down to the concrete bleachers.

Bump: let me check the scores on my watch. ooooohhhh. yes.

Gobunov: did you get our message?

Bump begins to sweat profusely from his pored-up cheeks.

Bump: ooooooh, no. i can't. please. i need a name. who is this ravishing redhead in the Gas-x commercial? i need to know. you guys are cruel. why are you doing this to me? is it hot in here or is it her? you're...........oh no.........i think it's've converted me. i'm into gingers now.


at the National Anthem, it's George Takei's turn. he stands up and climbs out of the dugout as he always has done throughout his career when his name is called. stiff and stern and with a sonorous stentorian speaking style.

when he sings, his voice sounds the same as when he talks. that distinctive rattle to his voice like he's just eaten raspberries with whip cream.

Takei: you people will never understand my slant. i am proud of my heritage and my struggle. there was a struggle.                     *there's an uncomfortable silence in the stands*            i will not say oh my to these claims against me to appease the cretin masses. Takei okay.

he senses that he is about to disappear.

Takei: beam me up. beat you to it!

the Enterprise screeches to a halt in the sky. its front is a bowl that looks exactly like a '50s UFO.

Takei: ha! saucer me this. i never wanted to live on this planet to begin with! there's gotta be a better place!

Takei disappears and the Enterprise warps to nothingness.

Monday, November 13, 2017


spoilers: i don't do self-care. i really should but there's no time.

1. have you ever had a professional massage? if yes, what type? if no, why not? yes. Scott Baio.............................sorry i read that as manager.

2. do you engage in the following? all that apply and how often.
a) yoga i do morning meditations but it's early and i'm asleep so i don't know for sure
b) tai chi i love chai tea! ginseng flavor, seek out the ginseng flavor
c) float therapy i float to my ceiling everytime i sleep, does that count? i'm either an active dreamer or an active sinner.
d) run/jog i rog. past Federer's house.
e) workout---any that isn't actually training for something but is for physical fitness maintenance does fucking in a Burger King bathroom count?
f) other, what? hello. how are you?

3. how many hours of sleep do you average on a weeknight? weekend? do you think you need more or less sleep? before instagram, 8. after instagram, 0. i use the weekends to catch up on sleep. the only fun i have anymore is staying up for SNL. i've written novels on this subject...

i need to sleep so much i become awake and fully conscious in the dream world. like i know for sure i'm in the dream world because i'm not asleep and yet i'm in the dream world.

4. which of the following are you most likely to add to your self-care routine and stick with it? a) schedule in a planner daily "me time" b) acupuncture c) take a moment at the end of each day and consciously list a few good things in your life d) turn off phone and step away from computer/tablet for 4 hours a day

a) i'd have to plan to buy a planner. and pencil that into my nonexistent planner.
b) that's how Pinhead got started. did you know Pinhead was once an unassuming alternative disc jockey who worked in a quiet terraced studio in the New Jersey Plains named Matt Pinfield?
c) there is only one good thing in my life: the upcoming Hey Arnold! movie. spoilers: he didn't end it all.
d) i tried that but i had an idea for an answer. you gotta type it when you think of it or you'll forget it.

5. what do you do for self-care either physically, spiritually, or emotionally? call my mom. and talk to her for 15 hours.

bonus: today, make sure you give yourself some self-care love. this TMIT was my self-care.



pray for me. pray for us

Friday, November 10, 2017



* skip past this commercial

* we cured polio and schizophrenia, so...

* this is Sesame Street on acid (a show already on acid).

* kids, please learn your shapes elsewhere. like your parents or something. the shapes don't want you seeing them like this.

* you don't want that mime talking, he has a filthy mouth.

* that's not a golden phone. that's the Tolkien Golden Ring to Rule Them All. it's a novelty phone. no phone is circle-shaped.

* the telethon format died with Jerry Lewis.......along with all of the film camera innovations Jerry invented, everyone just uses youtube to film everything now.

* R.I.P. Jerry Lewis. spoiler: the Anonymous Donor is Jerry Lewis.

* the Anonymous Donor's name? Deus Ex Machina, Demi for short.

* if you don't close the funding gap, you won't have the thigh gap.

* where's my 20 million dollars?

* that's not a scientist, that's just a gentleman in a coat that happens to be white. it's cold out.

* Roger: you don't know me, but i've been alive since 1962. i didn't actually discover the Wet Shapes, i just made commercials for them.

* Roger: they're alive. they're interconnected. and capable of bestowing upon you the most profound love imaginable. they feed on your black soul.

* 2017 girls in '80s clothes: TAKE US BACK TO THE '80S!!! THERE'S NOTHING HERE FOR US!!!

* filmed on location at the Jimmy Carter Ranch

* Roger: i like to play around with my Wet Shapes. no lubrication required. you can't do this with a goldfish.

* 79 years. he died from happiness. life goals.

* swiss cheese. but swiss cheese tastes better than regular cheese. it's the holes.

* Mr. Bingo has a Barbie collection

* Metallica's new album. Halo 1000.

* the Anonymous Donor's voice isn't screeching, the magic phone's connection is bad.

* hostess: Lesley Sovereign is hot. did i just blurt that out?

* why do all hardened criminals come from New York?

* parole officer: i didn't recognize you without your black jumpsuit. take that garish orange thing off.

* parole officer: one more question: is that officer behind you real or a cardboard standee?

* Lesley removes the white sheet. there's nothing underneath...

* Lesley: my name is Lesley Sovereign and this is my story. i was a degenerate who liked to steal degenerative diseases. now i am free to pursue my true calling: being a goth.

* host: Lesley's boyfriend Trent Reznor coming out with the trophy. wearing his traditional bistre T shirt. this is NOT a participation trophy, folks, you have to go to jail to earn this trophy.

* mood whiplash

* host: this is dire, folks. the Wet Shapes are starting to coagulate into the Jello i ate as a kid.

* Rhea Perlman

* Cicely Tyson

* that's not pee, that's yellow liquid Jello.

* spoke too soon. or rather we spoke too soon, he didn't. remember, all she said was, "it's him." lesson learned.

* ever since the election the Anonymous Donor went underground and became Anonymous and shunned all globalist banks.

* even the mime's taking it hard. tho you can't tell.

* Emerald Capricorn: i am Emerald Capricorn. my part of Full Metal Alchemist was cut.

* Obama: where have i been? taking a long bath.

* Mask was a masterpiece. it affected me even as a small child in the '80s who didn't understand the plot or the words, i felt his face and the trauma of his life.

* it's not a cult if it works

* Busby Berkeley vibes

* Emerald: it didn't work cos the castle in the tank was upside-down.

* bring back ER. Chicago Med is just a cop-out.

* cry into your fishbowls. cry those magic anime tears.

* host and hostess: there was an explosion in the studio and the Wet Shapes are saved! the terrorists' plan backfired!........wait, i'm being told in my ear that this is simply a new set of water toys.

* mime: i like a little chocolate in my milk.

* host and hostess: wait, where's Lesley?
Lesley: i'm dead. my plan backfired.
hostess: i really wanted to kiss you. host, hip-bump me, i'm desperate.

* Metallica: sing for your supper, mime.
mime: *singing* wet love/ when a kiss just isn't enough...


happy weekend, my babies

Thursday, November 9, 2017


Maldark: i see you're doing extra. just don't have a suspicious smile on your face when you talk about insurance and stuff, that's all. don't enjoy it so much. and clean up the Pabst Blue Ribbon cans lining the crime scene at your house, they ran out of yellow tape and used your cans to mark the crime scene. with my father it was different. dad was my hero. he took me out every Sunday after Mass to get Wolfgang Puck soup in a can. it was a special flavor they only sold at specialty nutrition stores. i believe my dad was the first health nut of this country. Old Potato it was called. they discontinued the brand when i adulted but my adulation for it never ceased. until last week when i spotted one at the Store. i know i know i was agape. but when i returned with my groceries, the can wasn't there. i swore i checked it out, but apparently i subconsciously put it back onm the shelf for being too expensive. i was incensed at myself. Old Potato was the only connection i had left with my dad.

there's a rumble in the kitchen. coming from the cupboard. the other purple cat is hiding squeezed in tight inside an opened empty can of soup.

Maldark: this is a revelation, who knew cats could fit in something that small? they really love those boxed spaces huh. and also, THIS IS MY OLD POTATO!!! from long ago, this is the very can my dad served me. i am starving. but the memory in this hand will sustain me.


Rose McGowan is finishing an impassioned speech at the Weather Channel in front of a passing typhoon.

Rose: i win. cos i have a spaceship. all these years you treated me like an alien. but i now sublime into my full womanly powers. as you can see i am rising off this crooked beach. i am leaving this carcass of a rock. you are stuck here forever to eat each others' flesh till there are no more shames. you will die with the lie. you'll miss me when i'm gone. you could have had me when i was innocent. i am too special for this world. i belong amongst the stars. my body is my spaceship.

Rose floats out into space and, before disappearing, touches the hand of her fellow traveler, a flying Sinead O'Connor a bit tipsy from the weightlessness and cos she used the typhoon.

Rose: D'arcy was one of us, too, sisters of space, alien on a strange planet making noise. she should have stayed together with Jim Iha. it's easy to see that now in retrospect. make no mistake. do not be deceived. we are risen into the outer galaxy. what you mortals perceive as lightning we know to be true. it's not space lightning, it's sprites. i am with my people. i am whole and magic again.


Bump: *watching* who's on my watch? a beautiful yellow woman is trying to sell me a line.

the Mooch: that's Annette Figueroa.

Bump: figures. she's got a figure on her sure. Annette was never this funicello. where are you?

the Mooch: on the floor of the stock exchange...of the Virginia House of Delegates. sir, whatever it was you wanted me to do here, it ain't workin'.

Bump: get your ass over to our caravan. the Mall of Dubai is low prices! help me pick out an Orietntal mall rug. i want to try something.


back at class:

Maldark: what do you know? it's Art Week! i trust you all insured your A with your art projects this week? who wants to start?

Deen: i'm doing my traditional happy dance cos i got parole. i'm studying to get my pizza-truck license.

Maldark: i put in a good word with the real cops. as long as you're staying with me you're going places, kid. in my Pinto. get to work.

Less is absent.

Kelechi: i molded some clay into large blocks around my house.

Maldark: uh i believe they were made of cinder. that's the government intruding again.

Kelechi: why is there always construction? it's so constricting. i'm not much for art. but i took a picture. i'm getting into photography.

Halwa: i origami'd a number of large sanitary wipes.

Kelechi: that's my girl. we artists. it runs in the family genes.

the burly guy with the beard on his chest: i did a cosplay. as a hobbit. or the ogre who ate all the hobbits.

Maldark: don't sell yourself short, friend. you may be a regular-sized hobbit with an eating disorder. these things aren't always about the lack of impulse control.

 Maldark: Kelechi did you bring the Chocolate Peanut Butter Cheerios? they're not for the experiment, i'm just hungry. my project is this simple glass of water you see before you.

burly guy: what's so special about that?

Maldark: i'm glad you asked, Fat Hobbit. let's go outside to my car. oooh, the Pinto's new paint job is coming along nicely. simply pour the water into the gastank. turn the ignition and voila, it runs. it's water gas.

the class oohs and aahs.

Halwa: we're sure to win the race!

Maldark: this same water couldn't get out the crusty ring of bright yellow that encircles the back of my ear. i've showered for days and still nothing. it stains me like gold back there. i scratch and flakes fall off but it remains. it's painful, not itchy. don't count your chickens before they've laid eggs.


at FBI Headquarters, Intendo scours the long hall looking for a dark portal. he enters the room at the end. the one with the stained glass door and no knob.

a hooded figure is seated back turned to an oil painting of a mirror.

hooded figure: refresh.

Intendo: we think he's a Man from the West. his father certainly was.

hooded figure: and his end?

Intendo: Head, we got nothing. but it's most certainly a Death Star weapon that will wipe us and all our enemies out at the first opportunity. we could impound his car?

hooded figure: that's a bit heavyhanded. we shun notice. leave him to me. take him off your hands. i'll take him for awhile. i like to take things slow.

Intendo: if only we had the key.

hooded figure: oh but we do, my fine Fed. take the rest of the day off. enjoy yourself and secure your outermost regions. never let it be said i wasn't a compassionate boss. the last thing we need is another witness pile. it's good to be paranoid, but it's not good to be paranoid of being paranoid.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017


at the National Anthem, Wolfgang Puck does it. he sings it, nobody knew that about him, but his accent is so thick nobody knows what he's trying to say. he finishes the piece and drops the mic gently on the wet grass. the crowd is stunned silently. there's a moment of silence for one minute and then a "thank you" distants ethereally from afar. Wolfgabg disappears into thin air vut not before becoming a wolf.

Wolfgang: i turned into a lothwolf! cool! but it still would have been cooler to turn into Eddie Van Halen's son. that's the dutchboy everyone wants to be.


the two fugutives ride shotgun in the armored police car back to Maldark's bungaloo which has essentially been hollowed out. Intendo is asleep on the wheel.

Intendo: here. why is it always night?

the two purple cats are extremely agitated when Maldark returns. they never leave his side, pacing around his damaged famished legs and entering clandestine cottage holes under the floor of the home. but they quickly spring up again and race to be by his side, with a worried look on their faces, mewing and panting, concerning his every step, blocking his every move.

Maldark pours himself some apricot juice with a heavy dose of ginger into his mug already cracked with cocoa ring at the bottom.

Maldark: come, son, lay me your troubles.

Maldark: excuse me, my watch is ringing, need to get this. hello? so did you figure out what's causing that rancid fried potato vinegary smell emanating from my house? the open air does nothing to recede it.

Comey: it's your cat food. Newman's Own. smells like french fries. also, Neil Newman is hot, i checked the package.

Maldark: thanks, Jim. see? the FBI will be good again. Mulder and Scully are coming back soon. now what are your men doing! you're making a mess!

the Feds confiscate all of Maldark's Maxfield Parrish paintings off the remaining accent wall.

Intendo: what are you yellow of? us finding your plans? what do you have behind these paintings? underpaintings and overpaintings and afterpaintings? let me guess. and a compartment behind the painting whence lies the blueprints. sic 'em, boys.

the agents tear open all the art and find one of the purple cats inside. she viciously scratches their tongues out.

Intendo: that must've hurt.

Maldark: you never deserved art like that. your kind could never understand it. i am flummoxed and too tired to react. dammit get your flat feet off you're getting rub burns all over my linoleum. you've spilled my cats' water bowl! you spilled my cats' dry food all over the carpet! you're making a mess! AND YOU SAID YOU'D PICK UP MY TRASH ON FRIDAY! YOU DIDN'T! THE CANS ARE STILL THERE!!! I PAY GOOD TAXES SO I DON'T HAVE TO PICK UP MY OWN TRASH!!!

there's spooky cat screeching and muffled fighting blows. but it's coming from outside.

Intendo: we came on Friday. the green can wasn't there.

Maldark: YES IT WAS! YOU MISSED IT! PLAIN SIGHT. YOU WERE DRUNK AND LOOKING TO BLAME. hey don't drop that crate of Sun Valley eggs! those are my only eggs! do you know how much eggs cost!!!

Comey: sorry, Maldark, i got another call. yes, honey? where are you? the circus is bleeding. the bearded lady quit in protest. care to volunteer?

Ashley Parker is enjoying yellow tea with a woman in an orange camelwool sweater and beady glasses. she lies down on the ottomon.

Ashley: babe, i'm in the crowd. don't you see me? it's a circus out there. i see you. you're having a difficult show. i'm still getting a lay of the land. talk to you, do you mind if i lie down? it's been a hectic day. oooh that's comfortable. what was Jim like as a child?

Deen: excuse me, Mr. Maldark, i need to take and understand this. what up, dude?

Less: i'm really not doing well. i feel all spacey and disoriented and rudderless. where are you? my mom's in the hospital. should i visit her or let her recover first?

Deen: hey, bro, at least your parent has a chance. i'm in boilng oil over here.

Less: sure. sorry. never mind me. make sure to put on suntan lotion.

Maldark: where were we before rude interruptions? have a seat.

Deen: sir, is it weird that you have two toilets?

Maldark: i do a lot of thinking. you know you see those pictures of properties after major hurricanes and the only thing left standing is the toilet? it feels good to let it all out.

Deen: my problematic situation or my poop?

Maldark: need a laxative? it's the only pills i have left in my cupboard.

Deen: i didn't murder my pops no matter what the cops say. it was a grim coincidence. i crashed his car into the living room the moment he collapsed into his tv pizza face-first watching golf and passed away. the cart died, too. i'm not ashamed to admit i felt ashamed. because i felt good. it wasn't a sad occasion. for the first time in my life i felt truly free, unburdened and chainless to pursue my real passion, making pizzas. i had the money also not having to pay for his dialysis. i opened up my very first Domino's. i treat the circle of dough like a canvas. the sauce is saudade red paint and the cheese is chalk. the meatballs are balls, my depiction of balls.

Maldark: is pizza a sandwich?

Deen: sure. bread and meat.